


Dear Dollophead

by Attenia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2885465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stricken with grief after Arthur's death, Merlin starts writing letters to him. Living alone by the lake Avalon, Merlin waits for his king to return to him. Merthur. Happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Dollophead

Dear Dollophead 

It's been a year now. It feels like decades, but Leon told me it's been exactly one year since you died when he came over yesterday. I've been wanting to write to you for ages, but I was afraid it would just make it hurt more. I eventually realised that this isn't going to hurt any more no matter what I do, so I may as well write.

Gwen and the knights have been great. They tried to drag me back to Camelot at first, but when I refused, she had them build me a little cottage just off the lake. I probably would have frozen to death if she hadn't.

They still come to bring me food every week or two. I'm sure they're doing it for you – they must be getting so sick of me by now. I'm glad, though; despite appearances, I actually did learn some hunting skills from you, though I doubt I'd be able to bring myself to use them. They remind me too much of you. Ever since you died, I've been trying to stay away from things that remind me of that day. It doesn't help much, but I keep trying.

I tried to use magic again yesterday. It's still gone, though. Ever since I lost sight of you on the lake, it's as though I never had magic. I'm not really that upset about it, really. There's no point in having magic when there's no one to use it for.

I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, Arthur. I wish I got the chance to tell you how much I love you before you went. I just thought that my magic was enough for you to deal with. Every day, I miss you, and wish I could have taken your place. I hope wherever you are, you're at peace.

I love you. I'm sorry.

Merlin

Merlin barely manages to sign his name before his hands are shaking too much for his writing to be legible. He carefully folds up the letter as though it's the greatest treasure and places it in the single drawer in the small desk he is sitting at.

Tears flow down his face and sobs shake his body. That wasn't a good idea. He knew it wouldn't be, but he couldn't resist the chance to feel even vaguely connected to Arthur again. He staggers to his bead and curls up into a tight ball, trying to keep out the misery that threatens to overwhelm him.

He clutches the red cloak to his chest, as though the piece of fabric can mend the hole inside of him. He never asked for it, but Gwen seemed to know. On their second visit, she had the knights bring some of Arthur's old things for him. He keeps most of them locked away – they're too painful to look at – but Merlin can't resist keeping the cloak in his bed, a reminder of Arthur, no matter how much it hurts.

Merlin finally falls asleep, his tears drying on his face. Of course, sleep isn't the peaceful release he had hoped for at first, in the early days after Arthur's death. As always, he dreams of Arthur. It doesn't matter whether the dreams are of him dying, of him coming back, or of any of the memories they've shared. They all leave Merlin feeling empty and lonelier than ever when he wakes.

The sun on his face wakes him. Merlin never used to be able to stand early mornings, but he has such trouble sleeping at all nowadays, the sun is more than enough to wake him. He gets out of bed slowly and casts around his bare little cottage.

Everything is meticulously neat, so he doesn't have to look long to find something to eat. He takes out a piece of dried meat and chews on it as he walks slowly down to the lake, grabbing his bucket on the way. As always, he gets his water for the day, then sits with his back against the tree, facing the water.

A few times, he sits up straighter, plagued by irrational hope whenever he thinks he sees something out of the ordinary on the water. As always, his head thumps back against the tree as disappointment floods through him. For all he knows, Arthur could come back in hundreds of years, long after he's dead. Still, Merlin can't bring himself to leave, nor manage to squash the hurtful shards of hope that keep piercing his heart.

He sits there for the morning, as usual. Clouds start to move in and Merlin watches them without interest. When it starts raining, he closes his eyes and lets the drops fall. He knows he should go inside, but he can't work up the energy to move right now.

He lets his mind drift into that place which is neither waking nor sleeping, that place where neither dreams nor memories can bother him. He is only brought out of it when a sharp voice says his name, accompanied by a hand shaking his arm. "Merlin."

He opens his eyes and looks up. "Percival," he acknowledges. The corners of his mouth twitch as he tries to give the knight a friendly smile, but the muscles are weak from disuse and he fears it comes out more as a grimace.

"What are you doing in the rain?" Percival asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Merlin shrugs.

"Come on, then."

Percival puts his hand under Merlin's shoulder and lifts him to his feet, apparently without any effort at all. Merlin follows him in silence back to the cottage. Percival is alone, but he has three horses – two loaded with supplies for Merlin.

Merlin helps him unpack without speaking, gesturing for Percival to come inside when they are done. He is shivering with cold now; he keeps forgetting that he can't warm himself up with magic anymore. When it becomes apparent that Merlin isn't going to make a fire, Percival kneels down and gets to work.

Only when the hearth is blazing does he sit back and observe Merlin. "How are you doing?" he asks seriously.

"Fine," Merlin says dully. He's not sure if they really expect another answer after all this time.

"Gwen asked me to give you the message again," he says. "She really wants you back, Merlin – we all do."

Merlin doesn't bother answering; they know his answer. Percival gets up and drapes a blanket over his shoulders. "You should get changed into some dry clothes – you're freezing."

"It's fine, I'll warm up eventually," Merlin says, feeling slightly guilty for the worry in Percival's voice, but not able to summon the energy to do anything about it.

"Tell Gwen I say thank you. You know she doesn't have to do all this."

"We wouldn't let you starve, Merlin," Percival says. Merlin just nods. The knight shifts uncomfortably. None of them seem at ease around Merlin anymore. He supposes it's to be expected – he's not the best company nowadays, after all. "You should get going," Merlin says, trying to coax some life into his dead voice.

"I can stay if you want…?"

"No, it's fine. Thank you for the food."

Percival hovers for a second before nodding and ducking out of the cottage.

Merlin sits there until his clothes are dried. Finally, he is hungry enough that he decides it's time to move. He slowly starts unpacking the stuff, putting each item in its place. One long package confuses him. Pulling the cloth wrapping off, he sees that it's a mirror. Gwen often does nice things like this – sends him things to try to make his bleak home a little more homey. He appreciates the thought, even if he has no use for the things.

Merlin looks at himself in the mirror. His old self would have been shocked; now he is just dully surprised. He barely recognises the face in the mirror. He has always been slight, but now he is almost skeletal. His cheekbones stick out of his face and his eyes are sunken hollows with black circles underneath them.

Though he has washed and dressed in clean clothes, his whole appearance is somehow haggard. His eyes seem deeper, sunken in their sockets at they are. He imagines that the others can see his pain when they look at him. No wonder they're so worried.

He places the mirror on the floor against the wall, facing away from him. Merlin picks up the first thing that reaches his fingers and starts eating – it doesn't really make a difference what he eats anymore, he never tastes any of it.

When his stomach has stopped grumbling, he goes to the small bed and curls up with Arthur's cloak. As a fitful sleep finds him, the dreams that will probably always haunt him come to torment his resting mind.

One year later

Dear Dollophead

I thought I saw you today. I was sitting by the lake and I was sure I saw that boat floating towards me. I leapt up and ran straight into the water. It turns out it was just a large log. Some tree must have fallen into the water. I shouldn't have believed it; I just so wanted it to be you.

I've been thinking about you a lot – too much. It always hurts to think about you. But that's better than forgetting you. The years I had with you were the best of my life. I wish I could tell you that.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Merlin 

Two years later

Dear Dollophead

Today Gwen came to see me herself. She tries to come as often as she can, but you know how difficult it is for her to get away from everything at Camelot. She and Leon are very happy together – she told me their son turned one a few weeks ago.

Apparently, the druids are still looking for a new leader after their last one died. She wanted my help, but she knows I have no more magic than she does, not anymore. I wish I could help her; it would be a small price to pay for everything she's done for me.

There are a few birds around here that have taken to coming to me for food; they know I always deliver. I know I really should make them get food for themselves, or they'll get lazy, but I can't deny them the help; they always look so happy when I give them bread crumbs. If only the rest of us could be made happy so easily…

It's been hard. They say time heals all wounds; really, I don't know what idiot said that. He doesn't know what he's talking about. I try not to think about you too much, but you know how bad I am at that. I don't think it will ever get better, really, not anymore.

I wish you were here; I miss you.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Merlin

Merlin signs the letter as he always does and puts it in the drawer. He's running out of space in the drawer; it's now filled to the brim with letters. He'll have to ask whichever knight they send next to make him another one. He feels bad asking them for anything when they already do so much, but they always seem relieved to be able to do something for him.

As always, once Merlin is finished writing, he curls up with Arthur's cloak and cries himself to sleep. The next morning, he makes his familiar walk down to the lake, carrying the bucket of water up to the tree so he can start his vigil.

He closes his eyes, going to that familiar place between waking and sleeping where it doesn't hurt so much.

"Merlin!"

Merlin grimaces internally. He must have somehow slipped into sleep, and now the dreams have him. He opens his eyes and sees what he always dreads most: Arthur climbing out of the small boat and walking up from the lake. These dreams are always the worst; they hurt the most when he wakes up.

Still, he's not losing a chance to be close to Arthur, no matter how much pain it causes him later. He gets up stiffly and walks slowly towards his king. At first, when the dreams had just stared soon after Arthur died, he would run at Arthur, overjoyed and full of laughter. Now, his joy at seeing Arthur again is tainted by the knowledge of how much pain this will cause him later.

Still, he walks straight to Arthur and hugs him. Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin, holding every bit as tightly as Merlin is.

Arthur pulls away after a few seconds, holding Merlin at arm's length. "What happened to you? You look like death warmed up – even I look better than you!" Concern colours his voice.

"Let's go inside," Merlin says. He knows he only has until he wakes up; he wants to spend as much time with Arthur as possible before that happens. Arthur doesn't protest – he never does – and follows Merlin up to the cottage.

Merlin pulls him inside and pushes him towards the bed. "Merlin, surely you don't live here?" Arthur asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Since when did you learn how to use a cupboard?"

Merlin's mouth twitches in an attempt at a smile as he pushes Arthur down onto the bed. He gets in after him, curling up against Arthur's chest. Arthur puts his arms around Merlin, just as he always does in the dreams.

Merlin breathes in the familiar scent of him, still so sharp in his mind after all these years.

Finally, Arthur speaks. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?" Merlin asks quietly, not particularly wanting to ruin the moment with talk.

"Well, I've just come back from the dead, and you haven't said more than three words to me."

"We don't have long," Merlin says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. "We don't need to talk. You'll be gone soon."

"This feels pretty permanent to me," Arthur says. "I mean, that's the whole point of coming back to life, isn't it?"

Merlin shrugs, the tears increasing. He knows it won't be long now. He leans up and places a soft kiss on Arthur's lips. He'll pay for that later, he knows, but he'll deal with that when he wakes up. Arthur stiffens in surprise for a moment before his hand comes up behind Merlin's head and he returns the kiss.

Merlin breaks away, knowing he won't survive more than that when he wakes up. He starts to shake with sobs and Arthur holds him tightly, as he always does.

"I miss you so much, Arthur," he says, his voice shuddering.

"It's ok, Merlin," Arthur says, rubbing his back soothingly. "I'm here now."

This only makes Merlin cry harder; Arthur may be here now, but he knows how this works. He'll cry himself to exhaustion and fall asleep in Arthur's arms. When he wakes, he'll be alone again. He doesn't fight as darkness closes on him; he merely clings tighter to his king. "I'm sorry. I love you," he whispers.

Merlin wakes confused. He has the feeling he's slept for a long time, longer than he's been able to in years. Maybe he forgot to eat and passed out; that's happened before. He wearily opens his eyes, getting his bearings and spotting his food cupboards.

Sun is shining through the windows, which makes it even stranger that he didn't wake up. He starts to sit up, but something stops him; a weight on his chest. He remembers the dream and forces himself to sit up quickly. The sooner he gets moving, the sooner the weight of grief will shift a bit, letting him move normally, at least.

"You're awake."

Merlin spins around at Arthur's voice, as his arm falls off Merlin's chest.

"Arthur?" Merlin whispers. He doesn't understand. Is he still asleep? He doesn't feel asleep. He pinches himself, hard. It hurts a lot.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks, eyeing the place where Merlin pinched himself, frowning.

"Why aren't you gone?" Merlin asks.

Hurt flickers across Arthur's face. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, of course not – but you usually do when I wake up. How are you still here? Am I hallucinating?"

Arthur shakes his head in exasperation. "Do you not remember yesterday? I came back, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Merlin says distractedly, running his hands through his hair. "It always happens like that – I'm at the lake and you come back. Then when I fall asleep in the dream, I wake up and you're gone again."

"Merlin, you're not dreaming."

Merlin is shaking his head slowly. "You can't be here."

"Why?" Arthur's voice is upset, but Merlin is being lost in a rising tide of panic.

"Arthur, you don't understand – when I dream you're here and wake up with you gone… I've learned to cope with it, but I can't deal with more, Arthur, I can't. You can't stay here any longer – when I wake up, I won't survive this. There's only so much I can handle."

Arthur gets up in one swift movement and grabs Merlin in a rough hug. "You're not dreaming or hallucinating, Merlin. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Merlin looks up into those blue eyes, hardly daring to believe.

"You're back?" he whispers. "For real? I wasn't dreaming yesterday?"

"I'm back," Arthur assures him. "I wondered why I didn't get a warmer welcome yesterday." His hand comes up to touch Merlin's sunken cheek. "I've missed you, Merlin."

For the first time in four years, Merlin's face breaks into a wide smile. The muscles are stiff from disuse, but Arthur beams back at him. Before Merlin can say anything, Arthur leans forward to kiss him.

It takes Merlin a second to work out what's going on. When he does, he freezes.

"What?" Arthur asks.

"I thought I was dreaming yesterday. What I said and did… I thought you weren't real. I wouldn't have done it, otherwise…"

Merlin peeks up at Arthur nervously. He never intended to make Arthur's life difficult like that, if he ever did come back in Merlin's lifetime.

"Well, it's a good thing you thought you were dreaming, then," Arthur says, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, Merlin surrenders, melting into Arthur as their lips meld together until it feels like they are one person rather than two.

Merlin is panting when Arthur steers him to the bed. Instead of joining him there, though, Arthur pushes Merlin into a sitting position and turns away, opening a couple of cupboards.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asks.

"No offense, Merlin, but you look like the living dead. When was the last time you ate?"

Merlin shrugs and Arthur glares at him in disapproval. "Well come on, you know I have no idea how to cook," he says impatiently, gesturing to Merlin. Merlin gets up to see that Arthur has laid out an assortment of vegetables and meat. "Can you make a stew out of this?" Arthur asks.

"I suppose so…" Merlin quickly tries to remember back to what now feels like another lifetime. Since Arthur died, he's never made the effort to cook anything, eating the food the knights brought him as it is.

"Good," Arthur says. "I'll cut it up; you can make a fire." He gestures to the hearth.

Merlin searches the area until he finds the stones Percival used to make a fire last time he was here. Merlin never bothers to make fires himself; when it gets cold, he curls up under Arthur's cloak, the violent shivering serving to distract him from his misery.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks as Merlin starts striking the stones together.

"Um… making a fire?"

"Why don't you use magic?"

"I don't have magic, Arthur."

"Merlin, you don't have to lie anymore," Arthur says gently. "I remember. You told me before I died. I don't blame you for keeping it secret. Go on, make the fire."

"No, really, I don't have magic – at least, not anymore."

"What?" Arthur steps away from the vegetables, frowning in concern.

"I haven't had magic since… since that day."

Something in Merlin's face must have twisted in pain, for Arthur is at his side in an instant. "I'm sorry, Merlin," he says, putting an arm around his bony shoulders.

"You don't need to apologise," Merlin says, starting to shake again. He can't seem to stop the stupid tears from coming – Arthur is back, he shouldn't be crying! But all of the grief and guilt he's managed not to think too much about all these years seems to be crashing down on him.

"It's my fault," Merlin gasps. "I should have stopped Mordred, I knew he would kill you. I wasn't in time to save you, I was too late and it was my fault."

Arthur is making soft hushing noises as Merlin continues to blubber, his words not distinguishable anymore. As Merlin cries, Arthur holds him tightly to his chest, and Merlin feels something he's never felt before. It's almost like a… lightness. The heaviness of grief falls from him one tear at a time and he clings to Arthur like he's the only solid thing in the world.

When Merlin finally quiets, Arthur wipes the tears from his face with his own sleeve and kisses him. "I love you," he says quietly. "I'll never leave you again."

This time, when the smile transforms Merlin's face, it feels slightly less unnatural. While the scars of the past are in no way gone, Merlin suddenly feels so light that for a second he fears he'll float away, and he grabs Arthur's hand to ground himself.

"Ok?" Arthur says.

Merlin takes a deep breath. "Ok."

Arthur sits down beside him at the hearth. "Now, what's the problem with your magic?"

"I don't know. It just never worked after…" He trails off.

"Well, now that I'm back, maybe it will work again?"

Merlin shrugs. "It's worth a try."

He mutters the incantation under his breath and jerks back in surprise when a spark flickers to life in the hearth. It's not the roaring fire he intended, but it's the first sign of magic he's seen in four years.

"Well, it's a start," Arthur says, leaning over to start the fire himself. "Why don't you cut up the food?"

Merlin doesn't want to move, though. He's afraid that if he lets go of Arthur, his king will disappear. Arthur doesn't comment as Merlin hovers by his shoulder, his fingers curling around the hem of the red cloak.

They cut up the meat and vegetables together and sit at on the bed together while waiting for the stew to simmer. Arthur insists that Merlin eat some bread while they're waiting. "Really, Merlin, how often have you been eating?" he says, sounding annoyed. "You look like a breath of wind could blow you away."

Merlin shrugs, not keen to talk about the time Arthur was away. Arthur, though, doesn't want to let it go.

"You look a mess, Merlin," he says quietly. His hands run up and down Merlin's bony body and his eyes probe the sorcerer's face. "You've really been suffering, haven't you?"

Merlin fights the urge to shrug, his standard response to any question nowadays. "Yes," he says, looking at his knees. "I've really been trying, Arthur, but it's been hard…"

Arthur gives his shoulders a gentle squeeze, worried that anything harder will break Merlin into brittle pieces. "You've done alright," he says encouragingly. "In your place, I doubt I would have managed as well."

Merlin looks up at him questions in his eyes. "You have Gwen, though. You love her…"

"Yes, I love Gwen," Arthur says, and Merlin feels as though a stone has dropped into his heart. "I will always love her, in a way. I wish you'd told me how you felt earlier, though, Merlin."

Merlin's eyes seem to ask his questions for him.

"I've always loved you," Arthur says. "I loved you before Gwen, and even when I loved her, I loved you, too. I never thought you felt the same – you never gave any hint. If I had, I would have done things differently. I knew that I would be somewhat happy if I married her – that I'd have about as much happiness as I was likely to get."

Merlin's head is spinning, but his heart is singing. Never in even his best dreams did Arthur say these wonderful, miraculous things. "Did Gwen know?"

"Of course she knew," Arthur says. "We had no secrets between us. She knew I loved both of you. How's she doing nowadays, anyway?"

For the next couple of hours, Merlin updates Arthur on what's been going on for the past four years. Of course, Merlin isn't the most ideal source of news – he can only tell Arthur what the knights and Gwen have told him on their brief visits, and most of the time he hadn't been able to summon the energy to concentrate on what they were saying, anyway.

After their stew, they keep talking until the sun has set. Merlin lies in Arthur's arms again and kisses him. This time, there are no tears. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you, too," Arthur says back. His face is more open and vulnerable than Merlin has ever seen it. His hand comes up to touch Arthur's face, his soft fingers leaving hot trails across the flesh. Soon, though, the emotional stress of the day catches up with them and they are both asleep.

When Merlin wakes, the sun has risen, but it's still morning. It wasn't the light that woke him, though. Arthur is sitting at his desk, crying quietly. "Arthur?" Merlin gets up and quickly goes to his king's side. "What's wrong?"

Merlin sees that there are stacks of paper on the desk; paper with writing on them. He knows what they are; he's only ever written one thing to in the last four years: his letters to Arthur. Arthur looks up at Merlin, his eyes red and puffy, his face open and vulnerable again.

"Arthur…"

Arthur opens his arms and Merlin goes willingly into them. "I'm sorry," Merlin says. "I should have put those away. You shouldn't have to see that."

"No, I'm glad I did," Arthur says, smiling through his tears. "You never stopped loving me, did you?"

"Not once in all these years," Merlin says softly.

They stay in the cottage for another week, not doing much but being close to each other. They talk a lot – Merlin tells Arthur about all the times he used magic to save him. He didn't want to, but Arthur insisted. Some of Arthur's indignant responses were quite hilarious.

Merlin continues to practice with his magic, and he improves steadily. It's amazing to watch Arthur's eyes grow wide with wonder whenever Merlin succeeds in brining off a spell, even a simple one.

Finally, though, Merlin brings up the subject. "I want to go back to Camelot."

Arthur fixes him with a level gaze. "We can wait, you know. You still look terrible, Merlin – we can wait a while longer. You need to recover."

"I'm fine now," Merlin says, and for the first time in a long time, it is true. He is still bony and rather haggard looking, but the shadows under his eyes are receding and he is putting on a bit of weight. The haunted look in his eyes is slowly being replaced with a little bit of their old sparkle.

"I feel like this won't be real until we go back," he explains. "With just the two of us here… it feels too much like a dream. I want to live again."

"I understand," Arthur says. So he and Merlin pack up what few possessions Merlin has – all gifts from Gwen and the knights, preparing to set off. They have to decide what to take and what to leave behind, as there's only so much they can carry on their backs. Arthur says they can seal up the cottage and come back to visit sometime.

They are sorting Merlin's meagre possessions into piles of things they're taking and things they're not taking. Arthur picks up his old cloak from Merlin's bed and throws it without looking into the pile of things to leave.

"No," Merlin gasps, grabbing it and holding it tight to his chest. Arthur's brow furrows in confusion, and Merlin can see his point. He's slept with the cloak for four years and cried a river of tears over it. Now, it looks less like a cloak and more like an old, threadbare rag. Still, he can't bear to let it go.

"What is that?" Arthur asks interestedly.

"It's your old cloak," Merlin says, not meeting Arthur's gaze. They don't talk much about the time Arthur was away if they can help it. Though Merlin is a lot better, he suspects the scars from the experience will never truly leave him. Arthur senses his pain and doesn't push the subject.

"Well, it looks a mess," Arthur says. "I'll give you a new one – you can have this one."

Merlin shakes his head and backs away, holding the ragged cloak tightly to him. "No, I like this one."

Arthur just looks at him, his eyes silently asking for an explanation.

"This was my comfort," Merlin says reluctantly. "When I was hurting… this was a comfort to me. It was what I remembered you by. I'm not letting it go. It's one of the things that helped me get through each day – remembering you, even though it hurt. I need this."

There is a flash of pain in Arthur's eyes before he nods and gestures to the pile of things they are taking without protest. Merlin knows that Arthur still feels guilty for leaving him, no matter how many times Merlin assures Arthur that isn't not his fault. Any reminder of how much pain his death caused Merlin makes Arthur sad, so Merlin tries to avoid the bad memories for both of their sakes.

Finally, they are ready to leave. They don't have horses, but they don't have to continue on foot for long.

With time slipping by faster than it has in years, Merlin didn't realise that it was time for Percival to visit him again. Other knights sometimes come, but Percival seems to have taken up the duty of checking up on Merlin, for the main part.

Of course, he finds Merlin and Arthur together – they are never more than a few feet from each other, afraid to be out of each other's sight for a moment, lest they lose each other again.

"Merlin!" Percival says, jogging up to him, looking concerned. "What are you doing…?" His voice trails off when he sees Arthur.

"Arthur?" he whispers, his voice torn between disbelief and hope.

"It's me, Percival," Arthur says. "I'm back." He claps the knight on the back and grins. As the shock leaves Percival's face, it too splits into a wide smile. "I can't believe it! We have to tell the others!"

"Well, we'll certainly get there faster with horses," Arthur says, gesturing appreciatively at them.

They take most of the supplies off Percival's spare horses – he and Arthur can hunt for game on the way. They ride for the rest of the day, all three chatting happily. The first time Merlin laughs, Percival spins around, his eyes wide with surprise. Merlin pretends not to notice Arthur's confused look. Percival hasn't seen him so much as smile in years; no wonder he's surprised. Arthur doesn't need to know that, though.

They ride for the rest of the day and finally make camp in a small grove of trees. Percival doesn't comment when Merlin and Arthur get into the same bedroll. Merlin usually falls asleep quickly – ever since Arthur has been back, he's had no trouble sleeping, quite the opposite, in fact.

It's not strange, then, for Arthur to assume Merlin is asleep very quickly. However, Merlin is still awake – sleepy, but awake – when Arthur and Percival start talking.

"Tell me everything, Percival," Arthur says quietly. Percival starts talking about Camelot and the knights, but Arthur interrupts him almost immediately. "No, tell me about Merlin. What happened when I left?"

Percival sighs deeply before beginning. "When he didn't return, Gwen sent search parties looking for him. They found him by the lake. He was just sitting there, staring out at the water. He didn't look like he'd moved in days. We got some food and water into him, but when we tried to take him back to Camelot, he refused.

We thought he would use magic to stop us, but he didn't. We only realised later that he couldn't use his magic anymore. Anyway, Gwen took pity on him – he was more distressed than any of us have ever seen him when we tried to take him away. She ordered us to build a cottage on the lake for him. We stayed with him for a while, but eventually we had to get back to Camelot.

"Gwen made sure to send food and supplies to Merlin regularly – that was why I was coming here. He could have gotten food for himself, if he really wanted to, but it's like he just gave up. After a while, the other knights couldn't bear to come anymore – they couldn't bear to see him like that. I am the only one left who will come to him.

"He ate and washed and kept the house clean… but we were watching him waste away. I didn't know how to comfort him. He didn't seem to get better – he only seemed to get worse. He never smiled, and even his voice sounded dead when he spoke. I once found him passed out on the floor from lack of food.

"It wasn't that he didn't have food, or even that he was trying to starve himself – he was just in too much pain to eat, I think. I've been so worried about him. I keep expecting to come to deliver the food one day and find his dead body on the ground."

Merlin feels Arthur shudder beside him.

"We wanted to leave someone with him, living here and taking care of him, but he refused," Percival says. "I wasn't sure how much longer he'd survive out here on his own – though he lasted longer than any of us expected. I was so worried when I saw him earlier out of his cottage – he's not been in any state to travel for years. He could so easily get lost or just lose the will to move and starve to death, too far away from the food we bring to his cottage.

"He's… different now, though," Percival continues. "He looks almost human, now. I'd forgotten what his laugh sounds like. He's not the old Merlin, but he's recovering – finally."

Arthur's expression must have been guilt-ridden, for Percival's next words are comforting. "It's not your fault, Arthur – it's not like you chose to die. Merlin will get better – it's clear that you're the reason he's gotten this far."

"Do you think he'll ever fully recover, though?" Arthur asks. "I see it in his eyes, sometimes, the pain. It's not there anymore, but the memories of it are. I'm not sure if he'll ever get over them."

"If anyone can help him, Arthur, it's you. I believe in you. Now that you're back, we're all going to be fine. I truly believe that."

"Thank you, Percival."

After that they exchange only a few perfunctory comments about the weather and soon Merlin is drifting off.

They reach Camelot in a little over a week. Percival rides ahead to tell the others, and by the time Merlin and Arthur ride in, there are people lining the streets, cheering and waving Pendragon banners. On the steps to the castle, Gwen and the rest of the knights are waiting.

"Arthur," she says, embracing him warmly. "We're all so glad to have you back."

"I'm glad to be back, Gwen," he says, kissing her on the cheek. Merlin has told him all about her and Leon, and Percival told her about Merlin and Arthur, but both look happy, accepting the changes willingly.

"Come inside, everyone's waiting for you," she says, leading them to the hall, where a feast is being laid out.

The knights crowd in joyfully, greeting Arthur and Merlin as long lost friends. Arthur is surprised at first that they greet Merlin as though he, too, has been missing for four years, until he realises that in some ways, he has. From everything Percival told him, the Merlin they know and love disappeared the same day Arthur did, and this is the first they've seen of him since then.

Gwen gets them up to date on everything that's been going on in Camelot while Merlin and Arthur listen attentively. Gaius comes down to visit briefly, hanging on Percival's arm. He's old and frail now – too old to have visited Merlin – but his smile is as warm as ever. "Glad to have you back, my boy," he says, hugging Merlin tightly.

As the celebrations go into the night, Merlin looks around in wonder.

"What is it?" Arthur whispers in his ear.

"It feels real," Merlin says simply. "This really is real, isn't it?"

Arthur chuckles and kisses the tip of Merlin's ear. "Yes, it's real, Merlin."

Not long after that, they excuse themselves and go to Arthur's chambers. As a mark of respect for Arthur, Gwen never let anyone stay there, but kept them clean and ready, in case Arthur ever returned.

Arthur would quite like a hot bath – it's been four years since he had one, after all – but Merlin has different ideas. He puts his hands on Arthur's chest and pushes him towards the bed. Arthur walks backwards until his knees hit the soft mattress and he lets Merlin push him onto his back.

Merlin leans down and kisses him, his mouth hungry and desperate. Of course, they have spent a lot of time kissing since Arthur got back, but nothing more than that.

Merlin moves his lips down to Arthur's neck and mutters an incantation; their clothes disappear.

"You're getting better at this," Arthur notes, but his joking tone is slightly ruined by how breathless he is. As Merlin runs his hands down the king's body, Arthur realises something.

"You never thought this was real," he accuses. "All that time at the cottage…"

Merlin sits up, straddling him. "It seemed too good to be true," he says honestly. "I did believe… but one part of me was afraid, afraid that the more I believed, the more I'd hurt if it turned out not to be true. It just felt like a wonderful dream, a dream I could never have."

"But now you believe?" Arthur says.

"Now I believe," Merlin says. "I'm not worrying about getting hurt when I wake up anymore…"

Arthur wants to say something, but he forgets what it is when Merlin's lips cover his hand his hands find Arthur's nipples. He gasps as Merlin rubs gently at the stiff nubs and Arthur grinds himself into Merlin's hands. They are both breathing fast now, Arthur's chest heaving under Merlin's body.

Merlin's mouth open up to Arthur's and their tongues entwine in a fierce dance, probing and touching, not like the soft, gentle kisses of the cottage, but hot and fast and desperate.

Merlin moves slightly and their erections rub against each other, Arthur groans and pulls Merlin downwards, pressing up against him.

Arthur can't take it anymore and he hooks his leg Merlin, flipping them so that he is on top. Merlin's hands tangle in his hair as Arthur's mouth moves down his body, devouring the taste of him. Merlin groans and tugs harder on Arthur's hair, pressing the king's mouth onto his hard nipple. Arthur sucks and licks as Merlin arches below him.

"Arthur… more, please… I need… Arthur…"

Arthur slowly disengages his mouth, ignoring Merlin's whimper, and he moves further downwards. Merlin's erection is leaking and he quivers when Arthur's tongue gently laps at the tip. Arthur looks up at his sorcerer, but Merlin's eyes are closed and his head is thrown back.

Arthur gently kisses Merlin's penis before taking it into his mouth.

Merlin yells loudly and bucks upwards, and Arthur is forced to hold his hips down as he moves his mouth back and forth, licking with tantalising strokes. "Arthur, please!"

"Ok, Merlin," Arthur says, grinning as Merlin whimpers when Arthur removes his mouth. Arthur's own penis is throbbing and he lowers himself over Merlin again, letting their erections rub together with delicious friction. Both men moan wildly and Merlin seeks Arthur's mouth. Arthur is ready for him and their lips crash together, hot and fast.

"I… I can't take much more," Arthur gasps, pulling back. Merlin just whines, muttering disjointed words such as "please," "Arthur," and "more." Arthur reaches into the drawer next to the bed, but finds that it has been emptied of all of its contents.

"Um, Merlin, we have a problem…"

Merlin opens his eyes and glances at the empty drawer before muttering a quick spell. A bottle of oil appears just next to Arthur's hand. Arthur grins and doesn't hesitate. He slicks his fingers and slowly moves them towards Merlin's hole. Merlin is quivering under his touch and pushes himself towards Arthur's searching hand.

One of Arthur's fingers circles Merlin's hole slowly, but now Merlin is begging and Arthur knows that he's too close to wait much longer. When one of his fingers enters Merlin's tight heat, Merlin's back arches up. "Arthur!" he yells, then falls back, moaning. Arthur adds another finger and starts moving the two of them in and out of Merlin, slowly at first, but increasing the pace when Merlin begs for it.

He adds another finger and thrusts deeper. He knows when he finds Merlin's spot, because Merlin stiffens and groans, pushing himself onto Arthur's fingers, writhing against him. Arthur hits the spot twice more before withdrawing his fingers.

Merlin lunges for Arthur's penis, catching it in his hands and making Arthur catch his breath. Merlin slicks his hands in oil and spreads it all along Arthur's throbbing erection. Arthur grits his teeth as Merlin's fingers to delicious things to him. He reaches for Merlin's hands when the sorcerer tries to move away, but the oiled fingers slip through his.

Merlin spreads his legs invitingly for Arthur.

Arthur's head is spinning and all he can think about is Merlin. He lines himself up with Merlin's entrance and pushes slowly inside. Merlin screams and his legs wrap around Arthur's waist, pulling him in further.

Arthur thrusts faster and faster, deeper and deeper. Merlin sobs his name when Arthur hits his spot, and Arthur adjusts his angle, determined to hit it on every stroke. He is so close now.

Arthur takes Merlin's erection in his hand, pumping in time with his strokes. It doesn't take long. Just two strokes later Merlin gives a hoarse shout as he comes, spurting all over Arthur's chest.

His muscles tighten around Arthur and that's it for him. "Merlin!" Arthur thrusts into him as he comes, the power of it blanking out his vision for a moment.

He collapses heavily on top of Merlin, both of them panting. Finally, Arthur pulls out of Merlin and rolls to the side, keeping his arms wrapped around the slim body.

They lie in silence, getting their breath back for a while. As the sweat cools on Merlin's chest, he turns so that he is facing Arthur, running his hands through the blonde hair.

"Did that feel real enough for you?" Arthur whispers, his breath tickling Merlin's neck.

"You have no idea," Merlin breathes back.

"Oh, I think I do."

"I love you," Merlin says, pressing a soft kiss to Arthur's lips.

"I love you, too," he says. "I'll never leave you again, Merlin, I promise you."

"I'll hold you to that," Merlin says.

Arthur's hand traces the knobs down his spine – less prominent now than there were a week ago. "I know."

Dear Dollophead

I feel kind of silly writing to you – after all, I'll see you in a few days when you get back from the hunt. I'm lonely without you, though, so I thought I'd write; writing these letters to you got me through a lot of bad times.

I can't stand sleeping alone – it's been quite pathetic, really, I've been sharing a room with Gwen and Leon. You need to hurry up and get back. I know it's been six years since you came back to life, but this is the longest we've been apart since then and I don't like it. 

I'll give you this letter when you get back and you'll laugh at me, but I won't care, because I'll be so glad to see you. Then you'll forget to laugh at me because I'll be kissing you and it'll be like you never left. From now on, you're not allowed to go on hunts without me.

I'll see you soon.

I love you

Merlin 

The End

Please review! I really appreciate it :)


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